Fighting the Light
by Mageliberator94
Summary: Heralla Lavellan had just been marked and anointed "The Herald of Andraste". It's hard to come to terms with the idea that the whole world was relying on her to fix everything. It's even harder when trying to come to terms with the connections she shares with her companions. M rating for later scenes.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a whirlwind of emotions and actions after being told she was the Herald of Andraste. It seemed all wrong seeing as Heralla was an elf. The glowing beacon in her hand said different though. Day after day, it was fighting demons, closing rifts, helping the people in the Hinterlands, acquiring horses for the Inquisition, Venatori, killing giant spiders on the Coast, it was endless! There were times that Herralla felt she needed to let go for a while, to just relax. She had started to find her solace in a dwarf named Varric. They were becoming close friends, and Heralla needed someone like him.

She had dropped off the things needed for the requisitions to the quartermaster and noticed Varric already getting settled in by the fire. The petite elf started to feel happiness bubble up inside of her. It was almost time for their campfire stories and drinks together. He looked too relaxed though, nothing a flying leap off the wall and over a tent wouldn't fix. She soared through the air and landed on her feet a few inches away from him. Varric jumped in surprise. There was Heralla, her auburn hair flowing wildly in waves from her surprise leap. A wicked smile upon her face.

"Maker, Wiggles! Could you stop doing that?" Varric clutched his chest with a leather glove, dramatically portraying a heart attack.

"Wiggles? I have a nickname now?" Heralla raised an eyebrow. She had been begging Varric for a nickname, but he always refused. He told her that it would come to him eventually but you couldn't rush these things.

"Yeah. Did you know that when you're about to set some poor bastard ablaze your nose wiggles?"

Heralla blushed. Oh Maker, take me now.

"Alright. Wiggles it is. So, what are we doing tonight?" Heralla strode across the short distance and sat down next to Varric with a plop.

"Please tell some more stories. I'll go get the drinks!"

Varric looked at her with a smirk, knowing how much Wiggles loved to hear tales of the Champion, his Hawke. Wiggles actually reminded him of her. Maybe that's why he took such a shining to her as quick as he did. Varric smiled and sighed.

"Ok. If you go get the drinks, I'll tell you about the time Blondie and Fenris almost got into a fist fight over Hawke."

"YES! Ok, I'll be right back!"

Heralla jumped up with amazing speed and took off to the tavern in the tiny village to grab a cask and a few glasses. She could barely contain her giddiness as she burst through the entrance. The heavy wooden door slammed against the wall and shook the furs adorning it, and everyone turned to look at the lithe elf that made such a commotion.

"A cask and three glasses, please!" Heralla said with a glowing smile across her face as she bounced up and down with excitement. Three glasses because it never failed, eventually someone showed up to sit with them and laugh for a while. Varric and Heralla knew to try and make the best of their downtime. They had to laugh. Heralla didn't think either of them would have made it this far without being able to joke with each other.

As she grabbed the glasses and liquor in it's rounded bottle, she started to think, 'Who will it be tonight? The Bull? He loves having drinks with us. Maybe Blackwall. As serious as he looks, the man has an amazing sense of humor. Maybe Sera. Probably Sera.' she was looking down at the ground when she finally snapped to and realized that she was almost back at the campfire. She looked up and almost dropped the glasses as her steps screeched to a halt.

Solas.

It was Solas.

What was he doing here? He never wanted to mingle with Varric, or Heralla normally. She eyed him suspiciously.

Heralla started to walk again, slowly over to the campfire where Varric was already sitting comfortably on a druffalo skin on the frozen ground. She didn't say a single word to Solas as she handed Varric the glasses, he was already talking about "Blondie's" history, something Heralla knew of. Whenever Varric spoke of Anders, she almost felt bad for him. Almost.

She folded her legs underneath her and sat next to the enigmatic dwarf as he looked up at her, "Look who we have here, Wiggles. Chuckles decided to join us tonight." Varric seemed almost pleased he was here.

"Are you sure he even knows how to laugh? I don't want him feeling left out." Heralla sarcastically made a worried expression play across her face.

Varric laughed a hearty guffaw, "Oh man, Chuckles. I don't know what you did to her… but she doesn't seem to like you too much."

Solas shifted his gaze to the deep blue eyed elf next to the dwarf, "I can't see why. I have been nothing but proper to her."

Heralla let out a gasp as her mouth fell open. "Are you KIDDING me, Solas? Are… are you… wh-what?"

How could he even say that? Heralla's frustration with the bald, fade walker started to push up her throat, making her thoughts come out in fragmented sentences. He was "proper"?! Oh for the love- he had looked down on her the moment he met her! Well, tonight, drinks or no, she was going to let her feelings be known to him. Like it didn't matter at all that she was an elf, and a mage.. he always seemed to speak to her in this condescending tone that just bled with pity. No. You know what? No. Heralla put her foot down in her mind. She was not letting fucking Solas ruin this for her. This was **her **time with Varric. If he had such a problem with her he could fucking go somewhere else.

It was about that time, after Heralla had fought this out with herself in her mind that she noticed both Varric and Solas not saying a word, but looking at her with confused expressions on their faces.

"You Ok, Wiggles?" Varric reached across with a gloved hand and rubbed her arm.

"Yes, thank you Varric. I'm fine. Let's drink." Heralla spanned the distance across Varric's lap and grabbed a glass and the bottle. She pulled a dagger from her belt and wrenched the cork out of the darkened flask, flicked it on to the hide beneath her and poured a glass for herself.

Varric stared at her as the elf threw back her head and pounded a glass of dark liquor. That's when he noticed the bottle and realized it's contents. 4:90 Black. Maker's balls, Wiggles was not messing around tonight.

Ever since bringing The Iron Bull into their band of misfits, Heralla had started to drink the stuff. It smelled like the underside of a nug, but had a sweet taste to it, and she started to like it more and more. Varric could remember a few occasions where he walked into the tavern to find the elf and the Qunari, bottles scattered about them, and her begging him to put her on his shoulders. She had actually gotten him drunk enough to do it a few times, and Varric almost choked to death watching the two of them, her diminutive figure perched upon the hulking Ben-Hasrath, giggling and shouting "Onward, my mighty steed!". If he didn't know any better, (which he did) he would think that the trash talking Qunari spy had a thing for the elf. But Varric decided to let it be.

"Ok, since you're alright then, Wiggles, what would you like to hear about?" Varric was doing his best to try and be the neutral party in this situation. Maybe if he could just get her focused on a story of his, she might settle down. Romance. She loved to hear about how Blondie and the Broody elf vyed for Hawke's affections.

"How about the time-"

"No."

Heralla spat out with a cough. She had already drank three more shots in the time he had been trying to think of what to say next. Varric started to feel antsy, he could tell the Black was already working it's way through her small body.

"I want Solas to tell US a story." Heralla had started to raise her voice and she pointed to the quiet elf with one finger while still holding her glass. Her body started to sway a bit under the spell of the liquor.

"Me? But I am not the self proclaimed story teller here, Varric is." Solas pulled his arms across his chest.

Heralla took a breath ready to lay into the elf about… about… something… when footsteps approached the tents.

"Is… is our dear Herald of Andraste _drunk_?" Dorian stepped forward, magister robes flowing and sparkling as the light from the campfire hit the buckles and rings that adorned them, hands facing the fire to warm them, a small smirk pulling up the corner of his fabulous mustache.

"She's getting there… and quick." Varric responded. He couldn't help it, he had to chuckle. She was so hilarious when she was drunk.

"But I think she has some pent up aggression towards Chuckles here."

"Oh, Solas. What have you done now?" Dorian put his hands on his hips and tilted his head towards the scowling elf like a mother ready to scold a child.

"I have done nothing. It is she who chooses to flood her body with alcohol… if that can be considered alcohol and not an element with which to create a grenade." He narrowed his ice blue eyes at the swaying mage. Her hair was a mess of waves, the fire flashed light upon her pale skin and vallaslin, highlighting the blue-green marks of Mythal. She looked beautiful in this light, but he would never tell her so.

"Listen here you pompous, arrogant, stuck up, know it all, sodding nughumper!" Heralla was standing now, although precariously as Dorian moved to her side, ready to catch her should gravity win. At least she was really starting to get the hang of using Dwarven language.

Solas stared up at her, expecting her to release the fury she had built up inside of her. She looked like a dragon, ready to spew fire forth, but the image was lessened when he noticed she was still holding her glass and pouring small amounts of liquid on the ground.

"Yes? Say what you must." Solas replied calmly. He was not going to let her inebriation get him riled up. She was such a child when she acted this way.

"You have the balls to call me Da'len to my face! I am not some child for you to shun! I'm doing the best with what I have, and you speak to me like I mean nothing! How dare you come over here and try to ruin my night with my friends!"

Varric and Dorian looked at each other, awkwardly trying to decide what the best course of action would be if she should decide to hit him.

"Herald, I have nothing but respect for you. Even if you are of the Dalish and hold on to your stories and fables like some desperate attempt to cling to a security blanket. It is not my fault your culture was lost to the ages, and _your people_ would do well to remember that they are the cause of it all."

"MY PEOPLE?! You're a sodding ELF, Solas! Or do you have your head so far up your ass you can't remember what you look like, due to the fact that you commonly wear yourself as a hat?!"

Varric and Dorian attempted to both cough to cover the sound of their laughter, but failed miserably.

Solas' face started to turn red with anger, "Your people called me flat ear whenever I tried to help them, do not be so surprised that I do not consider myself to be a part of **the people**." he growled the last two words out like he was spitting on the grave of an enemy.

"Oh please, Solas, the first time I came out of my room here someone handed me a bucket and a mop and told 'the knife-ear' to clean the vomit off the tavern floor." Heralla grabbed on to Dorian's arm for support, her small hand not even large enough to encircle his forearm half way.

"Hey Dorian, love, who am I? 'Look at me! I'm all broody and I'm a complete outsider because no one loves me so I spend all my time in the fade with spirits! They're the only ones who understand me! The people around me are like children and I'm going to talk down to everyone because I'm a know it all mage who can't be bothered to even try to get along with people, let alone the other _elven mage_ that I travel with! Let me talk about spirits and drone on and on about complete nugshit!'"

That was it, Dorian and Varric broke down into hysterical laughter as Heralla went on her tirade while waving her arms about and using Solas' gestures.

Solas stood and faced the drunken elf, "THIS is why I call you a child. If you want me to show you any respect, Herald, you must EARN IT!" Solas shouted at her.

It was then that a huge hulking figure appeared, looming over the elf who looked frail in comparison.


	2. Chapter 2

"Boss, everything alright here?" the baritone voice had an edge to it, as if he was ready to fight.

The Iron Bull stepped closer to the rosy cheeked elf, swaying in Dorian's arms. His muscles tensed under the leather harness. He never really cared for Solas, but he sure as hell was not going to let that creepy asshole hurt Heralla in any way. He could think of a million things to do to the smug little bastard, one being shipping him off to Par Vollen with a gag in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back.

"Oh! Bull! You came. I was starting to think *hic* you'd never show up." Heralla threw herself into his massive arms. She breathed in deeply and groaned to herself. He always smelled like leather, metal and… what was that smell… maybe Andraste's Grace? It was subtle. Like someone had mentioned flowers in the next room.

"Varric, how much did she drink?" The Qunari looked up to the dwarf with his one uncovered eye, concerned lines starting to form between his eyebrows.

"Look, I have no say over what Wiggles does, you know that. She's liable to set me on fire if I try to stop her from doing anything." Varric put his hands up to show innocence.

Heralla looked up at the horned figure holding her, he made it look so easy, as if he was carrying a newborn halla.

"Bull."

"Yes?"

"Bull."

"YES?"

Heralla smiled up at him. "Can I have a ride?" her twinkling cerulean eyes pleading with him. Oh man was she a mess.

"I'm not drunk enough to give you a ride." The Bull chucked under his breath. He positioned one arm across her to support all her weight as he tucked strands of hair behind her ear with his one free, large hand. The Bull looked her in the eyes with a loving expression and smiled down at her, his little drunken Herald of Andraste. For a moment, he forgot that he was surrounded by his peers.

Solas scoffed at the two, acting like complete idiots and one wasn't even drunk. The way the gigantic brute looked into her eyes made the bile rise in his throat. Deciding he was done for the evening, Solas turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"Don't tell me you're leaving now, Solas. Things were just getting interesting!" Dorian called after him.

"Yeah, come on Chuckles. We can all just calm down and talk. Just come on back over."

Solas said nothing but raised his hand as he bid them farewell and walked towards his small house and into the dark.

On his way back Solas began to think about the events of the evening. Did Heralla dislike him that much? She seemed so angry with him. It wasn't his fault, she was the one who acted like the world held something other than misfortune and misery. She was still so naive. Trying to work through differences with everyone she came across, trying to fix things constantly. Didn't she realize that there were some things that could never be fixed, even with the purest of intentions?

She was the so called "Herald of Andraste", but she reminded him of a halla fawn. Completely oblivious to the hunters that surrounded her instead focusing on the grass and still waters before her.

Solas slipped into his little makeshift cabin and closed the door with a sigh. Heralla's actions were not what he had expected when he decided to try to enjoy Varric's company. Maybe he _had _been acting out towards her, he began to think to himself as he sat on his rickety bed. Solas rubbed his head with both hands, down to the neck where he tried to loosen the knots building. He jumped when he heard a bang on the door.

'If it's The Bull, I'm going to have to electrocute him to get him to leave.'

Solas groaned as he stood back up and shuffled across the room to open the door, he began preemptively speaking before he could even look to see who was knocking. He just wanted to go to sleep, let the fade carry him off, and be somewhere he enjoyed.

"Iron Bull, if you think that you can-" he started, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Solas." a female voice softly called.

It was Heralla. The Herald of Andraste, how mighty she was on the battlefield. The grace with which she swung her staff, her body moving like a dancer to avoid attacks from archers, other mages, anyone. People feared her, and here she was, a disheveled mess in front of his door. Her shirt wrinkled and half off a shoulder. She shuddered in the cold.

Solas just stared for a minute, a surprised look on his face. What was she doing here? Did she not say enough at the campfire tonight? Had she come to make more of a point with even more name calling?

"May I come in?" the pale skinned elf bit at her thick lower lip while pushing strands of hair behind her left ear. She could not meet his eyes.

"Of course." was all Solas could respond with as he stepped aside and let her through the door.

She walked over to his desk, sat on his chair and doubled over, putting her head in her hands. Her auburn mane fell over her shoulders and around her face, undoing the taming she had just tried to accomplish outside.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Solas shut the door and stayed across the room from her. If she should try to attack him, he would be ready for it.

"I came to say I was sorry." her hair muffled her response.

"Sorry? Why? For telling me I wear myself as a hat? Or calling me a… what was it again? A nughumper. Ah yes. That was it." his brows furrowed as he shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms.

"Look, Solas. I… I know I'm still a little drunk. But I wanted to talk to you. I know I reacted badly. It's just that… when Cassandra lead me out of the holding cells, everyone looked at me with such disgust. Some spat on me, others cursed me. And then I closed the rift. And all of that went away. Suddenly I was Andraste's Chosen. What if I don't _want _to be Andraste's Chosen? And I met you, and I thought, 'Here's another elf, another apostate. Someone to watch my back. Someone who understands.' but instead, you talked down to me. You spoke to me the same way the elders in the clan spoke to me. I know I have a hard time not being a smart ass and making jokes about things. It's the way I deal with stressful situations, but at least I deal with them."

Tears had started streaming down her face. Since he had first met her, he never would have imagined seeing her cry. It made his heart break.

"Heralla, I'm…. I'm sorry as well. You are so young and full of hope." Solas started to slowly close the distance between them when he heard a giggle come out of her mouth between sniffles.

"Young? How old are you, Solas? We're separated by.. what.. a couple years?" her mouth pulled up in a small smile but it hadn't reached her eyes yet.

"You are right. I guess I am just more experienced." Solas tried his best to give her a comforting smile as he inched closer to her, less afraid to take an angry fist to his jaw.

"You are the Herald of Andraste, because people need you to be that. They need that hope to cling on to. That their Maker has not forgotten them in their time of need. You embody everything they had been praying for. That is a lot of pressure, but the people need _you_." he was right next to her now, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.

Heralla placed her hand on top of his and gave it a small squeeze. "But what about you? Do you need me?" her eyes looked straight into his now, searching for answers.

"Yes, I need you as well." Solas greeted her stare with a small smile and pulled her by the hand out of the chair.


	3. Chapter 3

Heralla stood up and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his chest. She breathed in deeply. Feeling her that close to him sent tingles up his spine. Solas knew she was still a bit drunk, and wouldn't take advantage of her in this state.

He smiled to himself and embraced her as he kissed the top of her head. She was growing on him. It had been so long since he had felt anything for anyone, Solas had no idea how to act around her, which ended up coming off as harsh and uncaring.

But he did care. More than he wanted to admit.

"Now, Herald, we need to get you back to your room." He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression across his face. Her wrath was mighty indeed.

"Solas, can I stay here? Just for tonight?" she asked, his chest muffling her words.

His heart began to race. She wanted to sleep here? No, surely that was inappropriate, but his thoughts stopped when she pulled away from him and stumbled over to his bed, and started undoing her trousers. She began to lean to the far right as she struggled to get a leg free.

"Heralla, no… you should-" he rushed over to her to catch her as she began to fall.

"Well, maybe it would be safer." blush started to burn his cheeks and ears as he looked at her long, pale legs. There was not a scar to be found, and dotted randomly with a freckle here and there.

She giggled, "I knew you'd see it my way." she said as she sat down on his bed.

Solas sighed as he crouched down to help her remove her trousers the rest of the way, and Heralla sighed with relief at the freedom. He pulled the blankets back as she laid down and rubbed her face into the pillow.

The exhausted elf started to walk to the chair, resigned to sleep in a sitting position. Not something he wanted to do, but he wouldn't mind. He had slept in more uncomfortable places before. Just then a hand grabbed his wrist.

"No, come lay with me." Heralla was sitting up in the bed, eyes pleading for closeness with him.

Solas turned back to her as her grip stayed on his wrist, "You are drunk. I am not sure this is the best idea."

"I'm not going to try to sleep with you, Solas. I just want to be held." her face was so beautiful in the dimly lit room, her eyes still seemed to sparkle. Deep blue pools that he could get lost in for eternity.

"Alright." Solas sighed. Her grip loosened as he walked around to the other side of the bed and removed his shirt. He noticed then that she was watching him, her eyes tracing over his body. The blush that burned him was now an inferno, threatening to swallow him whole. Maybe he _was _wrong about how she felt about him.

He pulled back the blankets and slid in next to the drowsy woman, laying down and getting comfortable for the inevitable fall into the fade. She laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her hair back behind her ear, just as The Bull had done.

A sweet smile spread across her face, her eyes closed as she sighed into him. He couldn't help but smile back.

While he had thought about having her in his arms, it was merely in passing. She would make a gesture, or laugh at Commander Cullen, and Solas would wonder how it would feel if he were the one she gave that attention to. It had never crossed his mind that it might be possible.

He didn't want to admit it, but this felt better than he had imagined it would. She was here with him, his little halla.

Heralla awoke to beams of light hitting the lids of her eyes. It seemed to burn through her skin. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket above her head. She inhaled deeply. Wait.

Her eyes snapped open. This didn't smell like her room. No, it smelled like earth. Earth and a sweet scent. Apples. No. Apple blossoms.

That was when Heralla remembered everything that happened the night before. She sat up in the bed, scanning the room. No. No… she didn't. She couldn't have made such a huge fool of herself. A pain stabbed through her temple.

"Ugh. The 4:90 Black. Right." she mumbled to herself while rubbing her head. Her own voice felt like it was reverberating in her head. Like an echo bouncing off of empty walls.

She looked to see where Solas was, she was definitely still in his room. Pieces of the night before were starting to flood her memory.

Andraste's tits. He helped her remove her pants.

Now she couldn't tell whether it was the hangover or the extreme embarrassment what made her want to vomit.

'I have to get up.' she thought to herself, 'I've got to sneak out of here.'

As she turned to use the bedside table as something to brace herself against she noticed a small note, folded, with her name scrawled across it in flowing script.

For spending most of his time in ruins, he did have remarkable penmanship. She opened the note,

"Heralla,

You looked too peaceful to wake up. I hope you had a good night's rest.

I would be lying if I said that I did not. Your trousers are folded and on the desk. There is also breakfast next to your clothes, if you can stomach it. If you need anything for nausea, I already asked Adan to mix something up for you. He has it ready.

Solas."

Oh for- how can she be mad at him? Maybe he wasn't the uptight bastard that Varric and herself had made him out to be. Wait… was she starting to _like _him? No. She had thoughts every now and then what his body looked like under those clothes.

….his _body_.

She remembered him taking his shirt off, now. His muscular figure, the way the muscles wrapped over his hip bones. That was a memory she would never forget.

Warmth started to spread through her veins as she thought about his porcelain skin.

She looked up when she heard soldiers talking outside the room.

Maker! The War Room!

Leliana had more than likely thought something up, Cullen would probably be confused and Josephine was probably speaking to Leliana through a series of knowing looks from across the room.

'I am never drinking again.' She thought to herself. It was a lie, and she knew it, but it made her feel a little better to make such a resolution.

Heralla grabbed her trousers and threw them on as fast as she could without falling over or vomiting on Solas' desk. Adan. She had to see Adan before she went to the War Room. Heralla slinked out the door once she was fully clothed, hoping to avoid anyone seeing her.

"How did you sleep?" a calm voice asked from beside her.

She jumped and then grabbed her head in pain.

"Ow! Maker's balls, Solas! Could you not?" Heralla squinted as she tried to open one eye and closed both of them again. Solas let a small grin pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Here, let me see." he said just above a whisper as he pushed himself off of the cabin he had been leaning against, recalling the events of the previous night.

He placed both hands on either side of her head, a blue glow began to form as he took deep, even breaths, focusing his magic on the pain that radiated from Heralla's temples.

When he brought his hands down her eyes opened slowly.

"How did you…?"

"An old and useful spell. I will remind myself to teach you it. However, your counsel is waiting for you in the War Room. Would you mind if I accompanied you?" Solas' staff was back in his hand as he gestured toward the Chantry.

"That would be… fine." Heralla was a little light headed from the spell, but she would take that over a dwarven miner trying to dig it's way out of her head.

As they walked to the Chantry she asked him questions about sleeping in ruins, his thoughts on the ancient elves, and the meeting of spirits in the fade. When was Solas so intriguing? She didn't remember this side of him. Maybe she just didn't care to see it before. When they arrived at the Chantry Heralla fidgeted with her clothes.

"Well, thank you… for the walk. It was.. nice?" she stammered to find the right words as she dug into the cold ground with her boot.

Solas chuckled. "I will see you soon, Herald of Andraste."

With that, he turned and strode off back to his small cabin, with a bounce in his step. Heralla watched him leave, and barely noticed when the heavy door to the Chantry opened and Cullen stuck his head out.

"Heralla?" Cullen snapped her back to the present. "Are you coming inside anytime soon? We'd like to know your thoughts on the next attack." he studied her with a raised eyebrow, could she possibly be ill?

"Yes, I was… just coming in." Heralla strode over to the door, following Cullen as it closed with a slam.


	4. Chapter 4 - Dark Memories, Darker Days

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated the story. Life and such. You know how it is. But I did it, and here's the newest chapter. Hope you guys like it. Bioware owns everything... this is just my own ramblings of things that happen in my mind. **

Fighting the Light: Chapter 4 - Dark Memories, Darker Days

Heralla had to bring herself back to reality a couple of times at the war table, but no one seemed to notice. No one except Leliana, of course. She notices everything. She never said a word, but gave Heralla a small smile to let her know that she noticed the lack of communication on her part.

After snapping herself out of the torrent of thoughts going through her mind, she had really tried her hardest to focus.

The Mages were now on the side of the Inquisition, much to Cullen's dismay. He had made his point many times to Heralla that the better bet was to go to the Templars for help, that they could suppress the breach long enough for her to close it, but after Heralla asked him how he thought they would respond to an elven mage coming to them, he seemed to drop the issue. And was she ever glad he did. She knew how to approach mages, she knew what needed to be said and she knew the Templars would never see her as an equal.

This is how she managed to pick up Dorian, go through time with Dorian, defeat Dorian's old mentor Alexius, 'Wow.' she thought to herself reflecting on the time with Dorian she had experienced so far, 'I don't really make friends the normal way, do I?'

As everyone sat bickering about what the next move should be, Heralla let herself slip into her thoughts, remembering the travel with Dorian to an alternate world. One where this "Elder One" ruled, and everything had gone to oblivion. She remembered the smell of the cells in the bowels of Redcliffe Castle. A mixture of sulfur and wetness. It was awful. The look on Enchanter Fiona's face, the glow of the red lyrium in her eyes, as an eerie red light swirled around her failing body.

Heralla and Dorian ran through the dungeon looking frantically for the people they had brought with them to the castle for "peace talks" with Alexius. Every moment they spent running around the gigantic maze of stone and death felt like a knife being slowly shoved into her stomach, inch by inch. After looking, they eventually found Blackwall, his spirit and will broken. A shell of what she knew him as. It was heartbreaking. He was the first one they found. After seeing the look on his face at seeing Heralla standing there in front of his cell, she knew that all of this had to be stopped. If she had to die to do it, she would gladly give up her life so people wouldn't have to suffer like this.

Then it came to her. Blackwall, then Bull. Oh, Maker, Bull. Half delirious, half pissed off, she didn't know what to make of him. Although when she did run up to the cell, her eyes began to sting with the formation of tears. "I saw you die." Was all he had said to her at first. She couldn't let him see her falling apart, he had to know that she was going to make this right. She set her jaw and took a breath. "I'm sorry, I should have been there." she said looking at him with eyes begging for forgiveness.

Once they were on their way again and looking for the last member of the party, The Bull grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off to the side. Red swirling around his massive hand as it clutched on to her arm. It made her jump, and Bull had pulled her over to a wall while Dorian and Blackwall kept searching for their last party member.

"What is it?" Heralla asked, half expecting something to come swinging at her head, or a rogue to pop out of the shadows and try to stab her.

"You said you're from the past, right?" He asked, bent over her with one hand on the wall above her.

"Yes. If I can stop all of this from happening, I will, Bull. I promise." Heralla gave him the most determined look she could muster. Honestly? She was scared shitless.

"Well, just in case I never get to do this again."

"Wh-"

The Bull laid his other hand on her face and pressed his lips against hers. He didn't smell right. He didn't feel right, but deep… deep in that kiss, she could feel him.

Heralla let herself melt into the kiss as The Bull ran his tongue along her, and nibbled on her full bottom lip. Sending little shivers over her skin. When he did finally pull away, his face still close to hers, he whispered, "Thank you, Kadan.", stood back upright and strolled down the hall up to Blackwall and Dorian.

'Kadan' She thought to herself. 'Have to find out what that means. Kadan.'

She met the others with swift steps, eager to find their last companion. Blackwall and Dorian had finally found him.

Back turned, gazing past the stone, stood Solas. His eyes red, skin crawling with the marks of red lyrium, just like the others. She couldn't tell if this was worse than the others, or about the same. However, her heart jumped into her throat when Solas had told her that he would do anything he could to help stop this from happening. "My life is yours." He had said.

Heralla wasn't sure now if she felt her heart skip a beat from the terror of everything around her or because he had the look in his eyes that he meant it in more than one way.

"Herald. Herald?" Cullen asked. His voice cut through the memories and she was back in the War Room. Cassandra looking more frustrated than ever, Josephine looking tired and Leliana looking calm as ever.

"Yes? I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, one she was so proficient at, as Cullen sighed a little under his breath.

"Are you ready to close the breach? Do you need more rest? Let us know before we begin the trek up to the Conclave."

"No. I'm fine. Let's end this now." Heralla said, scanning the faces of the counsel for approval. Cassandra seemed pleased, everyone did now that she noticed it. Maybe things would go more smoothly after the breach was finally closed. It had to. How could things get worse?


	5. Chapter 5 - No Rest for the Wicked

**So, I don't know if I should keep doing these short chapters or just one long huge one. But I'll figure it out. Thanks for reading!**

Chapter 5 - No Rest for the Wicked

...

They had given her two hours to prepare for the journey to the breach. It should be enough time to make sure that everyone was ready. Heralla was sitting in her little cabin in Haven, latching up her boots, making sure her armor was on, checking her potions on her belt when she heard a soft knock at the door.

Still reeling from the recollections of her time in the future, she mindlessly walked over to the door and opened it.

"Yes?" she said as she adjusted the gauntlet on her right forearm. She wouldn't tell Harritt that the right gauntlet fit a little oddly, he had enough to worry about.

"May I come in, Herald?" a soothing voice asked.

She looked up from her armored hand. It was Solas. No doubt here to go over what was to happen at the breach.

"Of course. Please." Heralla made a sweeping movement with her hand inviting him in.

She closed the door behind him, turning her attention back to the gauntlet that she just couldn't get to fit quite right.

Solas turned to study her room. Books next to the bed, books on the floor, books on the desk, books everywhere. His little halla craved knowledge. He smiled to himself, it seemed she was always finding ways to surprise him. His train of thought was broken by a frustrated grunt from Heralla. She was pulling and tugging at the leather gauntlet on her hand, trying to get it to fit to her thin arm.

"Here, allow me." Solas said stepping forward taking her hand in his.

Heralla stopped fighting the armor as her furrowed, thin brows relaxed. Unbuckling it with ease, Solas began to speak without looking at the azure eyes that were upon him now.

"So, I take it you know what to expect at the breach. The mages will encircle you and the breach, and channel their energy into your mark. With their added power and focus, we should be able to close the breach safely."

"Yes. I… figured as much." Heralla could barely remember to breathe. She took in his features. His face looked smooth but as if he had laughed a million times, with smile lines deep into his skin. His eyes icy and clear, his chin so prominent and strong. She looked over his lips, not full, but not thin. She started to wonder how they would feel against her skin.

With his head still down, Solas' eyes shot upwards and into hers as she took in a sharp breath.

"Are you well?" His straight eyebrows lifting a tiny bit, showing a hidden feeling of concern.

"Yes. I- I'm sorry, Solas. I keep remembering what I saw in the future. It sounds cliche, but it haunts me. It reminds me of what will happen if I can not fix all of this." Heralla uttered, her heart pounding, trying to find anything to look at. Maybe that way, Solas' eyes wouldn't be able to decipher the internal war raging in her mind.

"Heralla." Solas placed a hand on the side of her face, turning her head to look at him.

"You will be fine. You are a powerful, knowledgeable mage… among other things. You can handle this. You do not need to fear this future you saw, because it will never come to pass. While others have faith in the Maker, I have faith… in _you_." His face was calm, serene.

Heralla couldn't resist.

"Among other things?" she lifted an eyebrow as a smile pulled up one side of her mouth.

Solas returned her smile with one of his own.

"Surely you do not need _me _to tell you that you are beautiful. That is plain for anyone to see." his thumb now running along her soft skin.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she hadn't expected such an admission from Solas. He was normally so guarded with his feelings.

"Oh, my little halla." Solas closed the short distance between them and placed his lips upon hers.

His hand fell from her gauntlet, and he wrapped his arm around her back. Heralla's own hands found their way to Solas' shoulders, one hand running up the back of his neck, to the back of his head. She couldn't possibly fight him, she wanted this too much.

As Solas turned his head, seeking to deepen the kiss, Heralla opened her mouth and a moan escaped her lips. Tongues clashing in her mouth, she gripped him tighter as he pulled her in closer.

Hands searching for skin, his found nothing but armor. The hand he had placed on her face was now tangled in her tawny waves. He inhaled deeply, remembering her scent. She smelled like the woods and sweet cake. She was intoxicating.

His lips pulled from hers as he started to explore her neck. Running his teeth along the skin, she shivered and released small moans. Minute cues that she wanted more. With every groan and whine that escaped her lips, his blood rushed through his veins like fire. Threatening to consume him in passion. His erection grew harder and pulsed as her hands moved over his body. He wanted to hear more of her wails as he licked along her jawline, placing kisses and nips along her flawless neck. Her pale skin showed the veins beneath them, pulsating.

Heralla was getting lost in the feeling of Solas's hands and lips. Oh, Maker. He felt so good, she was considering pulling off all the armor she had just put on. Two hours is more than enough time, right?

Just then came a knock on the door.

"Herald? I just wanted to-" Cullen walked in on the couple, arms embracing each other, Solas' mouth still on Heralla's neck, her head thrown back to expose more of her skin. Solas didn't move a muscle but looked up at Cullen.

One hand on her lower back, the other still wrapped in her hair, "May we help you, Commander?"

Heralla's eyes were open, and she was terrified to move.

'Oh, fucking… REALLY? Go away, Cullen. GO. AWAY.' Heralla scolding Cullen in her head as she closed her eyes tightly. One hand brought to the bridge of her nose, pinching.

"I… I… ah- I'll just… come back… later?" Cullen's face, redder than a sunburned nug, as he flew back out the door.

Solas brought his head up to look at Heralla. Her face wasn't as red as Cullen's but still flushed with embarrassment.

"Fucking Andraste's tits. Can I have no privacy? Ever?" she grumbled, hand still pinching the bridge of her nose.

Solas let out a small laugh, "No. I'm sorry, Herald of Andraste. Someone of such importance gets very little private time. Maybe when you come back from the breach we can arrange some."

Heralla's hand dropped from her face, eyes opening, "I would like that.".

The admission made Solas's stomach jump into his throat. "I will see what I can do then. Now, let me see the gauntlet I was trying so hard to fix before you so rudely interrupted me." he said coyly while smiling at his little Halla.

She giggled and gave him a playful smack on the arm, "Just fix the armor.".


	6. Chapter 6 - Pulling

**So! I thought about splitting this up, but decided against it. So this one might be a little bit longer than the others. I really appreciate you guys reading though. I'm just kind of... messing around. Word therapy I suppose. Enjoy. :D**

Chapter 6 - Pulling

However large the breach looked from Haven, it got bigger the closer Heralla got to it. How was she supposed to close this thing? It was huge. It had to be done, though. There was no doubting that. With Cassandra, Solas, Cullen, and the mages in tow, she kept climbing the side of the mountain to reach the green, swirling crack in the sky.

The closer they got the more the air changed. She could feel the fade, the air felt thicker and heavier. Her armor felt weighed down. It reminded her of her time with her clan, perching in the forest, the rain soaking her clothing till she could barely walk back to the camp. As they reached the breach, the crackling of the tear could be heard.

"Are you ready to do this?" Cassandra asked, laying a hand on Heralla's shoulder.

Heralla looked at the fragmented green shards floating in mid air, contorting, hissing, crackling. You could almost hear the demons begging to come through. Heralla's hand glowed an intense green, the anchor aching within the palm.

"Yes. Let's finish this." Heralla said to the Seeker. Cassandra gave a small smile. For all her complaining about Varric or to Varric, Heralla really liked Cassandra, you never had to guess where you stood with her, and that she could appreciate. She returned Cassandra's smile and shook her hands, loosening up her muscles as she took deep breaths. Pushing all other thoughts aside, and clearing her mind, she looked upon the breach. Hearing Solas and Cassandra behind her, she noticed the mages had encircled her and the breach and were waiting for the signal.

"MAGES!" Cassandra called out to them.

"Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!" Solas instructed.

One by one, the mages knelt on the ground, striking their staves into the scorched earth, and Heralla could feel the magic pooling in the circle.

Trying to get closer to the breach proved to be a task for Heralla. The breach pushed back, green lightning running from the anchor up her arm. Her russet hair floating around her, electricity flowing through her locks, her face twisting with pain as she tried to push further towards the breach to close it.

'I just have to get a little closer.' She thought to herself. The pain was starting to shoot up her arm and into her chest. White-hot, searing pain. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. The glowing and crackling grew as she pushed closer.

With a final thrust of her hand, Heralla allowed the anchor to do it's job, energy poured into it and it felt like the pressure growing in her body would be too much.

And then, with a blinding flash of light, a release of pressure… like a bubble had finally popped.

It sent shockwaves outwards, throwing everyone back. Heralla hit the ground and felt the wind escape from her lungs. Everything went black.

But only for a moment. She was laying on the ground and drew in a sharp breath like she had been underwater. Oxygen filled her chest and she coughed. Pain. Pain everywhere. It took her a minute, but Heralla managed to shove herself up on to her knee. Her head was spinning, more than likely from hitting her head. Cassandra rushed up to her, pushing through soldiers. When she saw Heralla was still breathing, and actually attempting to stand, a relieved look spread across her face.

Grabbing her side as she stood, Cassandra laid a gloved hand on Heralla's shoulder. "You did it.", she remarked. Sounding half in disbelief, half overjoyed. A chorus of cheering began as Heralla looked at the sky where the breach had once been. While it wasn't completely normal looking, it didn't seem like any demons were about to drop out of it. The breach was closed, and that was a relief.

They made their way back to Haven, the soldiers and mages talking amongst themselves. They were ecstatic.

"If the Herald can close the breach, she can really fix this!" Heralla heard one soldier say to another.

"We'll put this blighted world back together. The Herald will not let us down." The other soldier replied.

Still grabbing her side, Heralla made her way slowly down the mountain. The dirt caked to her cheeks from the blow backwards mixed with the ash and tears from her face. She was almost positive that she broke a few ribs but wanted to wait to get back to Haven before trying to patch herself up or allowing someone else to do it for her.

Cullen appeared alongside of her, "Herald, would you like some help walking?" he didn't give her the chance to respond before shoving a pauldron clad shoulder under her arm, trying to take some of the weight off of her side.

"Thank you Commander. If I may ask one favor of you?" she looked up at him, still wincing from the pain.

"Anything, Herald." Cullen smiled down at her. With the breach closed she could have asked for him to dress in one of Vivienne's dresses and he would have done it. Maybe he shouldn't mention that though. She and Varric would pay to see that.

"Please, just call me Heralla."

She looked exhausted, and he could understand why. This had been an amazing show of force.

"Of course, Heralla. Let's get you back and cleaned up." Cullen continued to help her walk down the mountain. When the terrain got too rough, he stopped her.

"Wait."

Heralla looked up at him concerned that maybe some demons had strayed from the breach. Instead he bent down with an arm still around her back and swept her legs out from underneath her, and lifted her up to his chest.

"What are you doing?!" Heralla demanded, trying to make the pain in her side not shoot through her body from the sudden movement.

"This will be easier for both of us." Cullen said, smiling. "Please, just let me help you. You aren't that heavy. Now if I had to carry Blackwall… that might be a bit harder."

…

The Iron Bull had been pacing in front of his tent since he saw the explosion from the breach ripple the sky. Now he understood the Avvar talking about the signs in the sky. When it happened, his stomach lurched at the sight of the green waves rolling across the once swirling heavens.

His mind raced with panicked thoughts.

'Where is she? I hope she's alright. What if she's not? Oh, shit. What if that explosion killed her?'

The Qunari was hard to miss, and his anxious movements got stares from the Blacksmith.

A voice broke his unending thoughts, "Chief, if she's half as tough as I believe she is, she's still alive." Krem spoke softly to Bull. It was hard to keep things from Krem, but Krem noticed more than he let on. He saw how he looked at the Herald, she made him forget to conceal his expressions. He might as well have been wearing a big sign that said, "I'm infatuated with you.".

"Yeah, you're right. She's fine." Bull agreed, but continued to pace.

"Well here they come, so I guess we'll find out soon enough." Krem started to walk towards the soldiers starting to stream in on the path to Haven. They seemed to be in good spirits. That was a good sign.

Bull stopped pacing and began frantically scanning the crowd for her chestnut hair. He saw Cassandra striding along, fast paced, hand on the hilt of her sword. He ran over to her, his stride shook the ground itself.

" Cassandra, where is she?" he yelled over the chatter of the soldiers.

"Cullen has her. She needs a healer. She passed out." Cassandra took long strides towards the gate of Haven, more than likely to fetch Adan.

The Bull's head shot back to the unending line of soldiers, and he saw the shine off of Cullen's armor. He was carrying her.

Without a second thought he began to run towards Cullen, who looked like he was about to pass out as well. Sweat pouring from his brow as he cradled her limp body.

Bull could hear his heart beating in his ears, his tunnel vision blocking out everything around him but the small elf in the human's arms. Krem was already with him, running to help Cullen.

"Here, give her to me. Krem, go grab Stitches." Bull uttered in the calmest voice he could manage. He had never been able to tell her exactly how he felt about her, if she died now…

"Take her to my room. I'll-" Solas began to instruct the Bull, like a grunt.

"Fuck off, smarmy prick." Bull growled through clenched teeth.

Her body looked so small, thin and frail in his large, muscled arms. The rosy cheeks that he adored were now pale and lifeless, dirtied with clean streaks from tears.

"Don't you die on me, Kadan." he whispered into her ear as he pulled her closer to him. Before he even knew it, he was already opening the door to her small cottage, and gently placed her on her bed. He began to frantically undo the armor to assess the damage. Every piece he removed, he threw behind him. Some hitting the wall with a clang, others sliding across the floor, running into the sparse furniture.

No blood. He sighed with relief. Good.

He had finally got her down to her trousers and shirt that she wore under her armor when she went into the mountains, and lifted the shirt gently to look at her side. The bruises forming on her ribs wrapped around her back. Suddenly, the door to the room opened.

"The Iron Bull. Have you come to help?" Adan was carrying a box of poultices and herbs with him. He walked across the room and set the box on the stand next to the bed and started to roll up his sleeves, ready to work.

"Do you need help?" he Bull answered his question with one of his own.

"Well, I can always use an extra set of-"

"That will not be necessary, Adan. I am here." Solas said from the doorway. That sneaky little shit. He didn't even hear him walk up.

The Bull groaned and rolled his eyes at the permanently displeased face of Solas. He turned back to Adan, "Please let me know when you're done. I'd like to see her.".

"Of course." Adan said with a nod of his head.

As Bull passed Solas to get out the door, Solas spoke without even looking at him, "You are a tool. Nothing more. You have nothing to offer her except veiled half truths. Stay away from her.".

What? Did that little asshole just say that? His face boring holes into Solas as he just continued to walk to the side of the bed where Bull had just been. He had seen the way he cringed at Heralla in his arms. He wanted her. It was clear now.

That was it. Everyone has secrets. Time to find out exactly what Solas has to hide.


	7. Chapter 7 - I know you

**Hey Guys! Sorry it's been so long. (I don't know if anyone really reads this... It's more for my own weird amusement anyway.) This chapter is EXTREMELY long. But I felt like it couldn't be broken up into different chapters so I just decided to do a long one. Hope you like it! This is where the M rating comes in!**

The Bull walked out of the cottage, anger building inside of him, ready to explode. Krem was standing farther away from the small house, arms crossed. He looked utterly pissed.

"What'd he say to you, Krem?" the Bull asked.

"I grabbed Stitches, he stopped us before we could even make it to her. Told us we weren't needed. But the way he said it, Chief? If you're not going to punch him, I will." If looks could kill, Krem would have murdered Solas five times over.

"Don't worry, Krem. I know how to handle this." The Bull gave one last look towards the dwelling, then started off towards Leliana. Perhaps the spymaster could give him some information.

Leliana was in her tent, a stone's throw away from the massive doors of the chantry. And people always accused the Qun of being overbearing. Did these people not even notice what control the Chantry has over their lives? When it came right down to it, the Chantry could be just as demanding as the Qun, or even more so. The unfortunate part is that these people lived their lives by a series of panicked moments. It wasn't awful, but he could see how some might find solace in the consistency of the Qun.

She was bent over a small table shuffling papers when he ducked under the canvas. The only indication that she'd noticed his approach was a barely noticeable tensing of her shoulders. She was ready to fight as easily as she was to talk.

"May I help you, Bull?" the hooded figure asked, not bothering to look up as she scratched a note with her quill across one of the reports.

"I wanted to ask for some information - on one of the other people in our group." Bull watched her movements carefully. She may not look like much, but he knew an instrument of death when he saw one.

She finally straightened and turned to look at him. Fiery red hair framed her face even underneath her hood. Her leather armor creaked as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

"Who might this be about?" a small smirk played on her lips. Her upturned nose moving as she tried to stifle the facial expression.

She knew who this was about, she just wanted to hear him say it.

She wouldn't be much of a spymaster if she hadn't noticed the growing tension between the horned Ben-Hassrath and the elf.

The Bull sighed and rolled his eyes, letting Leliana know that he was on to her attempt to play dumb.

"Come on, Leliana, cut the crap. You know I want to know about Solas." Bull mimicked her own stance by folding his arms over himself as well.

"It's funny you should mention that. I would like to know more about him as well. His timely appearance here was... odd... to say the least. To be completely honest, he is the one person I know little about."

Leliana relaxed her posture, gesturing for Bull to sit on a nearby crate. The bulky Qunari sat tentatively on the crate ensuring that he didn't crush it by accident. The spymaster walked the few paces back over to her desk and leaned against it.

"Solas quite literally came to us out of nowhere. He walked up to the gates of Haven, hands up and surrendered his staff. We really did not know what to make of him. I knew that Cassandra would not be very willing to accept the help of an apostate, but Solas said he knew the Fade well, and I thought he could help with the breach. Cassandra and I decided that to be safe, we would hold him in one of the cells for a few nights, and interrogate him. Just to make sure that he had nothing to do with the death of the Divine. Cassandra spoke to him at great length for days, trying to ferret out what he was doing here. His response was always the same, 'I came to help.' When we finally set him up with his own space here in the village, he became our advisor on the Fade, of which he is quite knowledgeable as a dreamer. I took some time to ask him about his personal life. He would not tell me much, other than the fact that he grew up in a small village to the north. He has had no contact with any circle, and he was not a part of any elvhen clan. He has mastered magic on his own. With that in mind, he's either a genius-"

"Or extremely dangerous." Bull finished her sentence for her.

"Exactly. I can not tell which. He is very guarded. He does not let people in easily, and has traveled extensively to different ruins to explore the fade. It's like he searches for something, but what I do not know. Whenever I try to find out something about his past, he evades questioning. I imagine that Solas is not even his name, but something he picked. It sounded elvhen so I thought to ask a contact what the word means. Apparently, it translates as Pride."

The sound of birds chirping above her woke her up from a blissful sleep. Heralla opened her eyes to see canvas above her. A tent? This couldn't be right. The last thing she remembered she was being carried down the side of a mountain by Cullen. She sat up and looked down. The halla skin covering her was warm, and her armor was different. Covered in swirling patterns and feathers. She remembered this armor. This smell… the smell of rain and moss and earth. Heralla pulled the hide off of her and exited the tent. People walking past, some asking about the hunting trip that afternoon, others sitting around the fire, talking about the day's upcoming activities. The Aravels were positioned around the camp, a form of protection and storage.

This was her clan. She was home.

"Da'len." a sweet, soft voice called to her.

As Heralla turned, she noticed her own mahogany hair was still it's wavy self, but with braids scattered within it.

Her keeper stood a few feet away, a smile upon her face, her silver hair tied into a bun.

"Keeper Inany!" Heralla ran to her, and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. She smelled like herbs and poultices.

The Keeper chuckled, "Da'len! You act as if you haven't seen me in years. I was coming to make sure you weren't going to sleep through the morning." her thin hand came up to run her fingers through Heralla's hair.

"We have much to do today. Why don't you go wash up by the river." she said as she placed a kiss on top of Heralla's head.

Reluctantly, Inany's First let go of her and nodded. As she began to walk through the camp she noticed the other clan members looking at her.

Suddenly hyper aware of her movements, she held her gaze ahead of her, and continued to walk past the small groups of people speaking in hushed whispers about her.

She pretended not to hear them.

"Crazier than usual today. Right?" One hunter whispered to another.

"I don't know. She never takes anything seriously."

The short distance to the river seemed like miles. Heralla crouched down and scooped up the cool water with both could see her reflection in the moving surface. She looked the same; still the pale skin, same blue eyes, same small nose and defined chin. But this couldn't be real. Then a single thought came to her as she watched the spindleweed bend to the current of the water,

'Am I dead?'

No, she couldn't be dead. Hurt, maybe.. but not dead. She stood upright and looked across the river to the expanse of the plains. Halla lazily strode alongside the water, pulling the sweet grasses out of the ground as they went along. Above, a bird circled looking for it's next meal. It all seemed so pretty and quiet. Inside, Heralla chastised herself for not appreciating this sooner.

A small sense of acceptance filled her as she wanted to see where a dream like this would lead.

"Da'len." The keeper called to her.

"Yes, Keeper Inany." the First replied, and as she turned to look at her.

"The scouts think they have located the ruins we were looking for. If the artifact is there, I need them to bring it back. I would like you to accompany them, just in case they should need anything."

"Of course." Heralla bowed her head slightly.

With that, the Keeper turned and walked away. As Heralla scanned the small crowd of people she saw the scouting group on the edge of the camp, presumably waiting for her. She could see one of her close friends, and some she didn't quite care for as well.

"Ready to head out?" a young male elf said to her, breaking her from her thoughts.

A smile spread across Heralla's face as she looked at Tariel. They had been friends since childhood. She took in his familiar form. His dark brown hair swept back and tied to keep it out of his face, his sharp jawline, and eyes the same green as the trees of summer in the Emerald Graves. His skin was darkly tanned from the constant exposure to the sun, but some of his freckles still showed across his cheekbones. His eyebrows were sharp, the arch clearly defined, his nose still had the ridge from an injury she had given him after playing too hard.

When they were children, they would play together incessantly. Their favorite game was one where one of them would pretend to be Fen'Harel, while the other fought him off. He had wanted to be the Dread Wolf that time, and in pretending to shoot arrows at him, she managed to actually launch the stick she was using straight at his face. Heralla remembered him grabbing his nose and crying. He was so small then. As an adult he was taller than her, and the skinny boy with freckles she once knew had filled out, his arms and shoulders broad, especially for an elf. He always was handsome.

She had dreamt about him before, and every time she saw him he was still the same old Tariel. They had spent nights laying under the stars, memorizing their patterns, holding each other. Every time he appeared in her dreams like this, it was almost soothing to her. A reassurance that the memory of him had not faded from her mind.

"Yes. I'm always ready, Lethallin." Heralla playfully rolled her eyes at him. He let loose a small chuckle.

"Are you two done?" A blonde haired scout called from up front.

Ardeth. He was always such an arse.

"Oh, quite." Heralla looked at him with a stormy gaze. Ardeth was always trying to be a leader to the group, or at least act like one. He was never very effective though. Unless you counted his following of idiot friends.

Cammet, was not the brightest of people. However, what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in strength. The man was a brute, and knew how to fight. Unfortunately, he also followed Ardeth around like a pup.

And then there was Javel. He rarely left Cammet's side, and not surprisingly at all, was in the party as well. He was waif-like, even by elven standards. He looked as if a strong wind might send him tumbling with his mess of red hair. Javel was the exact opposite of Cammet; extremely intelligent. Very well read, and loved to research the ancient history of the elves. Hopefully these ruins would be more intriguing for him than listening to Ardeth complain about her being with them.

As they started across the plains, Heralla and Tariel stayed in the back of the group while the three men walked in front of them, chatting amongst themselves about which girls they liked in the clan.

"So, you're here to patch me up if things get rough?" Tariel shoved a leather-clad elbow into Heralla's side.

"Ouch! If you keep that up I might just let you bleed to death." She smiled up at him and returned her gaze to the land.

It was all so amazing and vivid. The plains stretching out in front of them, the mountains in the distance

"Well, I guess I should be careful then." Tariel remarked, his eyes still on the Keeper's First next to him. "It would be a shame that the next time you see me naked is because I have an arrow in my chest."

A flush began to burn up her cheeks.

They were closer to the ruins now, rocks and fragments of pillars began to scatter the landscape. The group stopped.

"Everyone listen." Ardeth spun around, hands up to gain everyone's attention.

"I'm going to go scout an entrance with Cammet, the last thing we need is the ruins falling in on us because Heralla touched something. Heralla, Tariel, you two stay here with Jarel." he whipped his shoulder length blonde hair as he spoke directly to Jarel who was already looking at crumbled pieces of stone.

"Keep an eye on them, would you? I don't need them getting into any kind of trouble."

"Yeah, sure. It'll be fine, Ardeth." Jarel said as he waved a dismissive hand at the self proclaimed leader.

The opening to the ruins looked small, but passable. It lead into a rocky mountainside, and trees had grown around it. Tall grasses shielded it to the naked eye, but if you knew what you were looking for, you could find it.

As Ardeth and Cammet started off for the opening, Jarel was studying what looked to be carvings in the stone shambles around the area. Heralla suddenly felt a tug at her hand.

"Come on." Tariel whispered.

Heralla looked at Jarel and back at her childhood friend. Shrugging slightly, she followed him around a few large boulders, and through some saplings to a secluded spot a ways away from the opening of the ruins where they were hidden from view.

"Tariel, in case I don't-"

Tariel pushed her up against the stone and kissed her passionately. His calloused hand slid around the back of her and down to her bottom as she moaned.

He tilted his head to the side, as their tongues met.

Heralla felt a fire burning in her veins, it seemed to spread with every movement of his hand, every rough kiss he placed on her lips.

Mindlessly, her hand found it's way to the back of his head, the other hand running up and down his arm. She began to lose herself in the dream. What a feeling, just like those intimate times they had shared before. Nothing had changed. He still smelled like him, still tasted like him, and was still intoxicating.

His mouth broke from hers, only to playfully bite on her ear while his hands explored her. Heralla's eyes fluttered shut as his hands moved across her robes. A slight gasp escaped when Tariel found the ties to her robes and slid a hand in the front, cupping her breast. Kissing and licking her neck as he kneaded her skin, he pressed himself against her. She could feel his erection through the trousers he wore, and every time he pressed into her a moan escaped his lips.

"Ar leth ma." Tariel breathed into her ear. Heralla turned her head to reclaim his mouth with hers. As she did so, she began to untie his trousers, while he was busy undoing her robes. When Tariel pushed the heavy fabric off her shoulders, she shivered at the cool breeze passing over her exposed skin.

His hands ran over her small clothes, feeling the damp cloth as she took in a sharp breath and released a moan. She was lost in the feeling of his hands, the warmth of his skin, his scent.

He broke the kiss as he slid a hand underneath the fabric, watching Heralla's face as he traced lightly over her slit. Chills ran up and down her spine. With every light touch, she would move, begging for the teasing to stop. Giving in to her lustful moans, he slid a single finger up her, feeling her velvet lips for the spot that he knew would make her climax. When he found it her body tensed, "Oh, Tariel." she moaned as he began to move with small, gentle circles around her nub. His erection throbbed at the sight of her arching her back and beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow. Heralla's hand searched for anything to hold on to as he began to gain speed, and her nails started to dig into Tariel's arm. Opening her eyes for a moment, she noticed his trousers, and began to rub him with a free hand. He picked up momentum, this wasn't about him right now, it was about her and her pleasure.

Like pressure building in a bottle, Heralla's muscles tensed with the increased movements. Her breath was ragged and fast. "Just a little more…" she whispered. He leant forward and nipped at her neck. His free hand placed upon a breast, kneading the pale white flesh. She was close, he could tell, with more speed came more pressure, threatening to send her over the edge. Heralla's moans began to grow as her legs began to shake. Reaching her climax, she gripped Tariel's arm as he plunged his tongue into her mouth to stifle her moans. Muscles trembling, he thrust a finger inside her to feel her release upon him. When she was finished she reached out for the fabric that covered his member.

Removing himself from her, Tariel pulled down the trousers and small clothes he wore, then pulled her small clothes down to her feet. The cool air hit his hot skin. He needed her, he needed to be inside of her. He grabbed her bottom with both hands as he lifted her up for her to wrap her thighs around him. Heralla raised her pelvis to allow him to slide into her. As his hardness penetrated her folds, she threw her head back with a moan. Tariel groaned as her wet, warmth wrapped around him. She was so tight from her previous orgasm, he wasn't sure how long he might last. With slow thrusts, he eased himself in and out of her, feeling her envelop him. Trying to pace himself, he began to kiss her collar bone but Heralla ground her hips into him. Oblivious to anything around them, he gasped and groaned into her skin at the movement. "Ar leth ma." He whispered into her skin, becoming slick with sweat.

"And I, you." She whispered back, head resting against the stone behind her.

Slow movements gave way to rhythmic thrusting as Tariel laid his forehead upon her chest. Her muscles were beginning to tense again as he picked up speed. Moans coming more frequent from her, hands bracing the rock behind her. He watched her facial expressions as he began to thrust harder, her legs still wrapped around him, breasts bouncing as he buried his length inside her. Sweat began to run down his back as he came close to the edge, ready to release the passion that had built up inside of him.

As her walls began to tighten he gripped her, fingers digging into her flesh as her hand buried itself into his hair, causing the deep brown locks to come undone and fall around his face. He growled through his teeth as he plunged into her, her fluids mixing with his as they climaxed together.

Her body trembled with her orgasm as his movements slowed, both breathing hard he gently kissed her full lips. He stayed inside of her as he throbbed from the act. Finally, he lifted her off of him and she placed her feet back on the ground.

Heralla laid an arm across her eyes as Tariel pulled his clothes back up and began to secure his trousers.

"That was amazing." she managed between gasping breaths.

Tariel laughed, "You weren't too bad yourself, ma vhenan." still tying he placed a kiss on her elbow. He bent down to pick up the robes from the ground, and dusted the grass and dirt off of them, then wrapped them around her shoulders.

"We should get back, before those Jarel loses interest in the carvings."

Heralla brought her arm down and began to dress herself again. She began to pull her robes up over her shoulders and securing them when Tariel pulled her in for one last kiss. Heralla smiled as a muffled giggle escaped her lips. When she pulled away, she opened her eyes.

"Heralla." Tariel's face was white.

"Tariel?" her defined brows pulling together as a sense of dread sprung like an unwelcome weed in the garden of her stomach. As she placed a hand on his face, he looked down at his stomach. Her gaze followed his, and she could see the blood blotting through the shirt he wore.

"No. No… not again. NO Tariel!" Heralla pressed the free hand against the wound spreading across the previously pristine abdomen.

'Not this part. Please, please, I don't want to relive this.' she thought to herself as tears began to burn her eyes. A crack of thunder boomed across the sky. She looked around as the wind began to blow. The once blue sky had turned gray, the grass dead around her feet as ashes floated in the air. The tall elf in front of her began to slump, losing more blood by the second. Heralla threw his arm over her shoulder as she led him out in the open and laid him on the scorched earth.

"Please Tariel. Don't make me see this again. Just stay with me, just a little longer." she said as her hands pressed into the wound, trying desperately to stop the laceration that she knew killed him in the end.

Taking hiccuping breaths as she sobbed, his hand raised one last time to cup her face. She leaned her head into it as her hair fell around his arm.

Tariel's eyes slowly slipped backward, and his touch pulled from her face. She held his lifeless body and cried as the world seemed to crumble around her.

"You did this." an elderly voice stated from behind her.

Heralla held her love tightly as she felt her heart break all over again.

"No. I never asked for any of this."

"You were supposed to protect your clan. You and Tariel put yourselves before others. I had hoped for more from you."

Heralla knew it was the Keeper, her voice was unlike any other. But the anger that filled her words now only left Heralla wanting to make all of this go away.

"You knew what you had to do, you chose not to do it! People died because of your selfish actions! That's why you could never stay! Do you understand what you have done?! "

Refusing to look at her, Heralla held on to Tariel. Sobbing, she placed her head on top of his and gripped him tighter, rocking him back and forth. With every accusation, her pain grew like a wildfire spreading across her mind.

A sharp tinge began to spread in her hand, tearing, clawing to escape. It crawled up her crimson-covered arm. When she looked down the anchor had appeared, it's glow brighter than her eyes could handle.

"I NEVER ASKED FOR ANY OF THIS!" Heralla screamed at the ashen sky, hoping that someone, anyone could hear her.

Pain gave way to anger. Her magic flared, flames starting to curl up her hands and wrists.

"You asked for all of it when you failed everyone!" The Keeper shouted at her.

The fire licked up her arms as she still gripped on to Tariel's empty body. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping that the pain and anger would subside, but with every beat of her heart, it flowed through her like a mighty river, feeding the flames that now covered her and her fallen lover.

With one last attempt to stop the anguish, she gave a guttural howl towards the heavens as flames shot into the air.


End file.
